


Lights Surrounding

by rabitty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alien!Stiles, Aliens, Awkward, F/M, M/M, Motel, Pale, Possessive Behaviour, in which Derek has to catch Stiles up on the history of Earth, lovely love, nude, randomely naked, weirded out at first sight, wigged out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:10:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabitty/pseuds/rabitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale has had the worst night of his life. His friends ditched him at some crappy bar in the middle of no-where were he just happens to run into his ex, Kate. He wakes up in a motel to find a himself with a hangover, and a strange black eyed man.<br/>I own none of the Teen Wolf characters or storylines and claim no right to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Surrounding

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly believe that there are too few alien!fics out there. This is my remedy to that problem.
> 
> I do not claim any of these characters as my own, and give all credit to the creators of Teen Wolf.

Lights flashed ominously bright in the window. Silver tangles of morning air pooled around the grain of the glass in each pane. Derek tilted his head away from the sudden light, groaning in quiet frustration.

He pulled the blanket tight over her head and tried shutting out the day to no avail. It seemed to leak underneath the edge of the blanket, even through the very knit of the fabric, getting more and more intense until Derek felt like his brain was shaking around in his skull. It took him a moment to realize that the shaking wasn’t just happening in his mind, but in the room around him as well. The vibrations sent a half full glass of water off of his nightstand, and a few amateur water colors off of the walls.

Managing to stand up from the bed, he made his way to the window. The light was brighter than ever and seemed to pulse around him like a living thing. Little ripples of apprehension crawled across his skin as he pulled aside the curtain to look into the junkyard behind his hotel room.

Something was there, among the trash and waste of occupants past. By the shells of several cars and a few cans of old paint cans stood a man, little more than a boy. The source of the light, a series of revolving circles spinning behind the boy, was fading as Derek watched it.

He didn’t know what compelled him to go outside, but he found himself tripping over his feet as he stepped out the door in his eagerness to get to the boy.

The sand under his feet was littered with candy wrappers and half crunched soda cans, a testament to lazy summer days and high school kids gone by. The boy stood shivering in a multi colored puddle of paint with no clothes, getting his toes sticky with primary colors.

They stood, staring at each other in silence. Derek’s body buzzed and hummed like he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket, the little hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing up in the static air.

The boy looked at him, pale and translucent in the fading glow from what ever had been lit behind him.

“Mənim ad üslub Deyil,” he said, his lips barely moving with his words.

“What?” Derek asked, blushing slightly when he realized how naked the other person was. Slipping out of his leather jacket, he offered it to the boy who took it without complaint. The jacket was big on him. His shoulders barely filled it out and it was long even to hide his nakedness.

There was something odd about the boy, besides the fact that he had seeming appeared in a gust of lights and wind without clothes into a junkyard. Something about his face….Derek realized with a start that it was his eyes. They were completely black. There were no whites or iris, just a completely black mirror reflecting everything it their path. He could see himself in perfect detail trapped in those shadowy depths, and knew he should be afraid of the boy, be afraid of the complete otherness the boy exuded, but he couldn’t manage to.

“Təşəkkür,” the boy mumbled, shifting his eyes away from Derek to the trash around him. He looked confused, or startled, Derek couldn’t tell.

“C’mmon,” Derek said, shaking his head, and reached his arm across the boy’s shoulder to lead him back to the hotel room.

He stumbled a bit, but followed Derek’s lead nonetheless. Little tracks of paint trailed in the sand, and stained the carpet of the hotel room as they headed back inside. Derek led him to the bathroom and turned on the shower to a decent temperature. Indicating with hand gestures, he managed to get the boy into the hot spray after several minutes of blank staring.

He closed his eyes and let out a little gasp when the water hit his skin, turning the pale flesh red.

Derek hurriedly closed the door as the heat raised in his cheeks. “Don’t be creepy,” he reprimanded himself.

He tried busying himself with finding clothes for the stranger, but most of what he had was too big. However, he managed to find an old shrunken shirt and a pair of medium shorts in his suitcase after about ten minutes of searching, and set them down in front of the bathroom door.

Derek waited on the bed for ten minutes before he started to get antsy. Thirty minutes passed before he actually got off the bed and went to the door. With a light knock, he turned the handle to open the door several inches.

“Are you okay in there?” he asked.

No reply.

“Hello? You’ve been in the shower for a while,” still no response.

Derek stepped all the way into the bathroom, making sure to look anywhere but at the stranger’s naked body. The boy was standing, with his eyes still closed, swaying under the showerhead.

“What are you doing?” he asked, raising his voice a little.

Black spheres opened and turned to meet his eyes, each drop of water reflected a hundred times over on their liquid surface.

“I am fine,” the boy said, his voice barely over a whisper, came out in short broken pieces.

Derek’s eyes widened. “So you speak English now?” he asked on the edge of being gruff.

The boy smiled at him slightly. “A-little,”

“Umm, good. Well, I’ll just, uh, I’ll just let you get back what ever it is you were doing. You should probably get out soon, though. You’ll get all pruney.” Derek closed the door behind him and tried focusing on watching crappy daytime TV.

He was halfway through an episode of Dr. Phil when the stranger came out of the bathroom. He looked down at the floor when his feet hit the clothes that Derek had set down for him. Picking them up, he got changed in the doorway. The shirt came down several inches from his hips, and the shorts ballooned around his legs, but they would do until Derek could go out and get him fitted clothes.

“Thank you-very-much,” He stuttered, sitting down hesitantly on the end of the bed.

“No problem,” muttered Derek, scratching his left elbow nervously. “So…what’s your name?” he asked.

The stranger twisted his lips, the word fighting to stay trapped. “Dy-s-st-ls,” he huffed in irritation and tried again. “Sti- stiles. I think that’s how…you say it,” he managed to grit out.

“Stiles?” Derek asked. He had expected something more exotic, something more otherworldly than Stiles. Stiles nodded his head once. “Okay,”

They both turned back to the TV. Derek didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to say to the man sitting on his bed, a man with black eyes and white skin, who had some how learned English between half an hour ago when he found him outside and now. He glanced over at Stiles, catching his profile out of the corner of his eye. Stiles was bent forward, his eyes wide as he took in the show that was playing.

“Why do they-shout?” Stiles asked, hugging his knees to his chest

“Well, see, that man cheated on that woman, and the fat one is trying to help them, you know, get over themselves,” he replied. It was only after the words had left his mouth that he realized how odd it was to be explaining Doctor Phil to an alien. Because that was what Stiles must be. An alien. No human had black eyes. As a matter of fact, no human just appeared naked in a shower of light and spinning discs in a yard full of trash.

Stiles nodded again as if he understood, and turned his eyes back to the screen, fixing them there with such intense concentration that Derek got the feeling that he was studying each person, just like a little kid watching Discovery Channel.

“Stiles, what are you?” he blurted out after several minutes of silence.

Stiles turned back to him and cocked his head to the right. 

“ I…don’t know.”


End file.
